Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [43]
‘Be that as it may, I gave the record to him.’
Ace stole a look at the Doctor. ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ she said.
‘At the moment I’m very certain indeed of my course of action.’
‘And what’s that?’
The Doctor told her, briefly and concisely.
‘Well, count me in,’ said Ace when he finished explaining.
The Doctor sighed. ‘It looks as if I’m going to receive some more reprimands about getting you back to your barracks late. Now the first thing we need to do is stop at the Fuller Lodge and collect my umbrella.’
‘Why, do you think it’s going to rain?’
‘No,’ said the Doctor. ‘No, not at all.’
Moonlight was falling through the window of Professor Henbest’s office in his prefabricated hut. Henbest was sitting at his desk, working late, writing up his notes on that afternoon’s session with the English girl who was called Acacia but liked to style herself Ace. There was a noise in the darkened office.
Henbest only had the light from his green-shaded desk lamp, which was directed at his papers, and the thin white light of the moon through the window.
He peered into the shadows of the room.
‘Is someone there?’
A small figure stepped out of the shadows. It was that Dr John Smith character. Like everyone else, Henbest seemed to have fallen into the habit of referring to him simply as the Doctor. The Doctor was standing there holding an umbrella. Henbest glanced at the window. It wasn’t raining. While 76
Henbest was looking at the window, the Doctor sat down in one of the armchairs facing his desk. Henbest frowned at him. He didn’t return Henbest’s gaze. At length, Henbest cleared his throat.
‘Can I help you?’
The Doctor looked up at him as if surprised to hear him speak. ‘Help me?
Yes, I believe you can.’
‘Then I suggest you make an appointment and arrange to see me during proper office hours. I am finished for the day now. Quite finished.’
‘Not quite,’ said the Doctor. He stood up, though, as if he was about to leave.
Then he turned to the desk and lifted his umbrella, pointing it at Henbest.
There was a faint spitting sound and Henbest felt a sudden tiny pain in his neck, as though a mosquito had bitten him. He swatted his neck with his hand, but there was nothing there. The Doctor remained standing in front of his desk, watching him.
‘He’s ready now, if you want to join us,’ said the Doctor. At his words, Ace stepped out of the shadows and sat down in one of the chairs. The Doctor set his umbrella carefully on the floor and sat down again in the other chair.
Both he and Ace stared at Henbest as though he were some kind of animal in a cage, exotic but dangerous and also mildly distasteful.
Henbest tried to clear his throat and say something, but found that he couldn’t. He must have made some faint sound, though, because the Doctor nodded and said, ‘Don’t worry. You’re paralysed but the muscles which control your breathing will remain unaffected. If you just relax I think you’ll find that you’re reasonably comfortable. You may be wondering how I managed to administer a dose of a paralysing toxin to you. Earlier today you may recall that you used a syringe to perform a similar procedure on Ace.’
‘Two syringes,’ said Ace, rubbing the bruised flesh of her inner arm.
‘But we had access to less crude technology. The toxin I used was contained in the hollow centre of a tiny gold pellet which I have just fired into your neck using this.’ The Doctor nudged the umbrella lying on the carpet with the toe of his shoe. ‘There are holes drilled in the gold pellet, allowing the toxin to diffuse swiftly into your bloodstream.’
‘You should shoot him twice,’ said Ace. ‘Like I said, he used two syringes on me.’
‘I’m afraid this device is only good for one pellet at a time, without a laborious and time-consuming reloading process.’ The Doctor got up from his chair and paced the carpet. Sitting there paralysed at his desk, Henbest noticed for the first time the peculiar aura that surrounded the Doctor.
‘You